Not So Different
by Lady Genjutsu
Summary: The night he is attacked by a Karayan girl, Borus has a realization that he fears will haunt him until the end of his days.


Disclaimer: As much as I love Suikoden and it's characters, I own none of it. Konami does. But who didn't know that already?  
  
A/N: This is just a short little experimental fic. Lately I've become quite interested with the animosity between Aila and Borus in particular. I always thought the scene in Geddoe's chapter where Aila attacks Borus in Vinay del Zexay is a powerful scene in terms of the portrayal of the game's theme and the portrayal of Borus and Aila's character. I guess it is this scene in particular that inspired me to write this. I hope you enjoy it!  
  
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Not So Different  
  
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I was on my fourth or fifth drink before I identified exactly what it was that bothered me so much about seeing that Karyan girl earlier that night. By that time, I was thankful for being alone in my room in Vinay del Zexay, for I would not have cared to explain to anyone the reasons behind this disgraceful overindulgence in alcohol. Besides, who would have believed that an inane attempt of Karayan girl to assassinate me would bother me so much?  
  
I could not believe it myself. But what else could explain my reasons for coming straight home afterwards and drinking myself into a depressed stupor? This girl had gotten under my skin, and I was quite intoxicated by the wine before I finally realized why.  
  
At first I thought it was my resentment that a mere Karayan girl would dare to attack me, one of the Mighty Six Knights of Zexen, in the streets of a Zexen city. But although I fed this suggestion into my brain over and over, I could not accept it as being true. The girl was young and foolish, and her clearly impromptu attempt to ambush me was laughable. Either her rage caused by the sight of me had blinded her logic, or she didn't comprehend how formidable of an opponent I really was. Regardless, I knew it wasn't her lack of good judgement that had gotten under my skin. I had dealt with her quickly and justly, considering the circumstances, so I knew it wasn't the actual incident that was bothering me.  
  
When this reason for my current despair failed to convince me as being the truth, I was forced to revisit places of the recent past... Perhaps, I suggested to myself, that the girl had merely thrown salt in the never- healing wound in my soul that was caused by the deep regret I have from the night I and the other knights raided the Karayan village. I had never forgiven myself for that night, nor have I ever been able to justify in my mind the blind, uncontrollable rage that coursed through me as I slaughtered every man, woman and child I laid eyes on in that village. I had nightmares about it every night since, on the nights that I could sleep at all, that is.  
  
This girl had recognized me as one who mercilessly attacked her village, and this prompted the attempted assault... Which prompted my uncharacteristic apology, though I knew I would not be, nor did I deserve to be, forgiven.  
  
I had let her go because I knew I deserved to die. The encounter was just another bitter reminder that I did not deserve to live.  
  
Although I felt that this was closer to the truth... I knew in my heart that it extended beyond that.  
  
I kept thinking about her eyes. Those young eyes, which I somehow knew had seen more war, hatred, and death than any person should have to bare witness to in a lifetime. There was so much anger and resentment was in those eyes.  
  
I had seen that blind rage once before. I have felt it. And like some twisted, sick, rabid animal, I had acted upon it. And on this night when the girl attacked me, for a single instant, when her eyes bore into mine with an unfathomable degree of loathing and anger, I thought I was looking at myself.  
  
How can a man, a noble knight, see himself in a barbaric young girl? Maybe not it was not exactly myself I saw in her eyes, but I saw an enraged, tortured soul that I associated with myself. Blind, uncontrollable rage...  
  
The rage in her that I classified as being barbaric was the same animalistic rage that had taken hold of me that night in her village. She had her reasons, just as I had mine. But where her reasons seemed warranted for the circumstances, mine were not. At least, they did not justify what I had done. And so even though she and her people had wronged Zexen many times... Zexen, or and least, I, have wronged them just as much, if not more so.  
  
And this thought led to another, and even in my drunken state, I could not deny the ultimate truth in the realization dawning upon me. It was a realization that tore me apart, rendering all my hatred for Karayans to be just as unjustified as my actions that night in their village.  
  
Karaya and Zexen, or at least, this girl and I... We were not so different from each other.  
  
And for the first time I asked myself a question that I never fathomed would be the question that would plague my mind for many nights to come.  
  
Who then, is the real barbarian?  
  
She or I?  
  
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A/N: I wrote this pretty late at night, so it may not be as polished as it could be. I might even re-edit it and repost it if I feel I can do better. Anyway, I hope you liked it, and I would appreciate any and all friendly reviews. Thanks for reading. ^_^ 


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